The Device
by AVCMez
Summary: She felt a hand curl around her wrist and a voice beside her ear, "We have to go," before she was pulled away. Given no choice, she wilfully ran with the stranger, his black coat billowing out behind him.
1. Chapter 1

I AM **BACK! **Wow has it been a long time! My extended absence has been from the upsetting news that _Time To Fangirl _was taken down due to the use of Mr. Tom Hiddleston. But hey, here's some Sherlock fanfiction that I hope you shall enjoy!

* * *

There was a blast of freezing air as Natalie stepped off the bus, nodding her thanks at the driver when her friend stepped of the bus. The rain came in torrents, making her fumble with her umbrella. She glanced at her friend and rolled her eyes. She was on her phone _again_, oblivious to the rain that was soaking her dress.

"Lillian!" Natalie barked, clicking her fingers in front of her face. The strawberry-blonde haired girl snapped up from her phone and raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you." She said, "Now come on!" Natalie grabbed Lillian's hand and they ran across the road and headed up the hill.

The rain pelted down, cutting across their faces like knives. Natalie hated the rain, the smell, the feel and the thought that came with it. Every time it rained, she was constantly and constantly reminded of that day many years ago. If there was something that erased memory, she needed it for that.

Reaching a small, but dense, group of trees, they stopped, Natalie catching her breath, "Okay, if we run to the next tree, then we should be able to . . ." Hearing no response from her friend, she turned around and glared at Lillian.

She was, for the _thousandth_ time, on her CCD. She marched over to her and plucked the device from her grip.

"Hey!" Lillian protested, reaching to snatch it back; but Natalie held it away from her.

"Look, we are _trying _to get out of this damn rain so we can _get home_; and it would be that much easier if you could _pay attention_."

But she still made another grab for her phone. This was the final straw for Natalie, who then put in her back pocket.

"Listen, you are _twenty-eight_, older than me in fact, and your _stupid obsession _with your new C. C. D is driving me insane."

Natalie turned around and leant against the tree, "I know the ads said that 'you'll want to be with it forever!' but I didn't think it would be literal." She said a tad sadly.

She saw a flicker of movement on the opposite side of the road, in the bushes that lined them.

She frowned. Was it a cat? It looked dark but it was only there for a second.

Her temporal sadness evaporated when she felt the phone slid out of her pocket. She spun around and slapped the phone out of Lillian's hands. It flew through the air and landed in a puddle of muddy water.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry Lillian. I didn't mean to . . ." Natalie gulped nervously as it started to spark, and then a small plume of smoke started to rise from it.

"Lillian?" She warned, "Get back from it. _Now_." She tugged on her arm but she didn't move. Instead, she reached out to it.

"Lillian! We have to leave it. Come on!" Natalie tried again but she still wouldn't budge.

What was she doing?! It was just a phone; they could just as easily get a new one.

Lillian moved forward and bent down to the puddle.

"Lillian!" Natalie screamed. She was going to get herself electrocuted!

She felt herself being roughly pulled away. The grip was strong and felt like a man's. She gasped and reflexively turned to him.

"No!" she screamed, trying to get away from him.

"Just come on!" He said through gritted teeth. "Get away from her."

"Stop it!" she screamed desperately, "Someone help me!"

He was very strong, but she wouldn't be abducted, not today. She dug her feet into the muddy grass, getting a very minimal amount of leverage from it. They continued to struggle, but the faceless man was slowly winning. Step by slow step, she was being lead to her possible death.

In an attempt doomed to fail, she spun around and tried to get Lillian's attention. She was about to scream until what she saw finally registered in her mind.

Lillian no longer looked like the lady Natalie knew her to be. Instead, she looked like a _monster_. She was frozen, staring at the phone she had picked up. Her head slowly turned to Natalie to reveal her eyes. They were horrifically dull and lifeless.

She slowly raised her hand towards Natalie, something between a growl and a snarl escaping her mouth.

She felt a hand curl around her wrist and a voice beside her ear, "We have to go," before she was pulled away again. Given no choice, she wilfully ran with the stranger, his coat billowing out behind him. Natalie took one last look at her friend and saw that the phone was _attaching _itself to her.

She whipped her head back and followed the black haired man through a darkened alleyway.

They stopped, a million and one dreaded scenarios popped into her head; none of which were the one that was about to occur.

The man shrugged off his coat, revealing a lanky yet healthy figure "Here." He offered.

She stepped back slightly, "No thanks." She declined.

"Take it. Your freezing." he neutrally insisted, holding it out further to her.

Hesitantly, Natalie slipped it on, the bottom trailing the ground slightly. It smelt a tad smoky, as if the man used to smoke.

A man holding an umbrella aloft appeared at the other end of the alleyway. He took one look at them then ran towards them.

"Sherlock!" The man hissed. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Why can't you just answer your phone like a normal person?"

He had short dirty-blonde hair and looked to be in his early thirties however his face looked worn and his eyes filled with memories no-one should have.

"Sorry John," the man called Sherlock said, "I was a bit . . . busy." His eyes flickered over to her standing in the darkness. Natalie took this as her cue and stepped into the light.

This was the first time she got a proper look at that man who practically dragged her away. His stature was lean yet not unhealthily so. He had fair skin and grey eyes, though they were not cold. His cheekbones were defined and his black hair was curled. His voice also had a slight drawl to it.

"Oh god." John said, slightly horrified. He turned to Sherlock, "Have you taken a young lady off the streets _again_? I told you the last time and I'll tell you again, it's not-"

"I have a perfectly good reason." He interrupted.

"And what might that be?" He crossed his arms, "Sorry about this." He added to Natalie.

"It's fine." She replied quietly. She was glad that nothing . . . unspeakable was happening to her.

Sherlock sighed, "There was another one."

John froze, "What?" he said quickly.

"It was the exact same. An argument, a splash of water and the Connecting Communication Device activates." While he gave his coat to her he still had his scarf and pulled it a little tighter, "We'll have to get back to the hotel. This has turned into a-"

"Um, Sherlock? What about her?"

Sherlock turned to Natalie. She fidgeted uncomfortably as his eyes travelled up and down her body, taking in every detail and analysing them in his brain; before finally looking up to piece hers.

After a moment, he said, "She can come with us."

He started to walk away but Natalie called out, "Excuse me?"

Sherlock froze mid-step and looked to her, "Yes?" he asked calmly.

"I am _not _just going to walk away with you. I just met you and there is no way that-" She suddenly violently sneezed.

He rolled his eyes. "You obviously have no choice. You're soaked to the bone and cold, obvious by the way you have been shivering for the past five minutes. You were running from tree to tree be as dry as possible which shows that you have a fear of water or at least despise it. Probably from a childhood experience. Any normal person would have done that but you were becoming anxious, a look of panic of your face."

He paused, "Lillian – I believe that was her name – you knew her well. You showed concern for when she spent too much time with her phone - enough to show that you were both close but not enough to be family. There was no intimate contact to show that you were in any kind of . . ." he paused, "relationship, therefore you were friends – best friends to be exact."

He pointed to her waist. "On your wrist there is a bracelet. Handmade, over ten years old. Oh, you didn't know Lillian well – you knew _very _well; so well that you initiated an argument between the two of you. You chose your words carefully to ensure that the tension after the argument would only be temporary to guarantee that the friendship would continue."

He opened his mouth again but John stopped him.

Seeing nothing from Natalie, John moved towards her, throwing the umbrella to Sherlock as he did so, and bent down to her level, kindly putting his hands on her shoulders.

She didn't flinch, "How did he know all that?" she asked. She was frightened by Sherlock. Was he a stalker? Or did he get _all_ of that just from one look? Either way, it creeped her out.

Look, uh _Natalie_, my friend and I travelled here for a small case. We, well _I_, was desperate. I needed _anything _to cure Sherlock's boredom. Trust me," he whispered, "you don't want to see him bored."

"John." Sherlock said warningly.

"And you are the best piece of evidence we hope to have, a _witness_-"

"_John_." Sherlock insisted.

"What?!" he demanded.

"_Here it comes_." He said.

Natalie and John both looked to the end of the alleyway to see a figure with stick-like arms and legs and a cylindrical body and head. But the most terrifying thing was the glowing eyes. They were big, bright and blood red.

A long barrel appeared, which Natalie realised was some sort of gun, and was pointed at them, soon burning with the anticipation of a fired shot.

"Run!" Sherlock shouted, grabbing Natalie's hand and pulled her to the opposite end of the alley. They were almost at the end when a bang sounded and something whooshed past them.

The trio skidded to a stop as it exploded in front of them in a burst of flames.

"This way!" John yelled. Another bang, another whoosh, another explosion; they were slowly getting further apart yet more accurate as they ran away. Sherlock almost got burned as one managed to get right in front of them.

"We have to get to the car." Sherlock said as he dove into the yet grass, trying to put out the flames.

"Good idea." John agreed.

There was a sleek black car a few metres ahead of them and they ran towards it, John almost pushing her into the backseat in his rush to get them to safety.

John was in the back seat with Natalie while Sherlock drove, tracks of burnt rubber trailing behind them.

"People would have heard, or even seen, what just happened. The police, fire crews and maybe an ambulance will be on the scene soon enough. We have to get out of here to avoid complications." He told them.

They dodged cars, swerving left and right to avoid crashing into them.

When the adrenaline started to fade, John handed her a towel, "You can dry yourself off with this."

Natalie took it gratefully, drying off her short brown hair in just a few minutes.

John made to reach out to her, but pulled back slightly.

"Do you mind? I just need to check if you have a fever."

"Uh . . . okay?" she said uncertainly.

John slowly rested the back of his hand on her forehead. Natalie immediately stiffened and made a noise of discomfort.

"Your hand is cold." She complained softly.

"Hmm." He replied nonchalantly.

He then checked underneath her chin and swiped a thumb across her forehead, before taking out his phone.

"You have a slight fever so when we get back I'll have to give you some tablets . . ."

"What was that?!" she asked the both of them.

John's head snapped up to look at her, then slowly moved to Sherlock. In the rear-view mirror, Natalie could see Sherlock looking at her, then went to John.

"Tell her John." He said firmly.

John looked to Natalie, then to Sherlock and back to her.

"What was it." She repeated.

"That was . . ." he gulped, "That was your friend Lillian."


	2. Chapter 2

_Dedicated to my friend Sjanni for helping me to get Sherlock into character. Love you gurl! _

Hey again! It has been about a week and updates will probably continue to be once a week, if we're lucky. Entering the 'harder' version of high-school will probably limit the time that I will be able to work on writing. Now for that review I got.

_Guest_: Thank you so much for reviewing! (You know who you are) I have fixed the mistakes that you pointed out to me as well and also added an extra bit. As for the sympathy bit, I would feel that Sherlock would at least have a _smidge_ of sympathy for a young adult who is shivering and soaked to the bone and sneezing. J But then it _is _Sherlock. Who knows what goes on in that head of his.

Anyway, TO THE STORY!

* * *

They managed to get to the hotel with minimal trouble, earning some strange looks as the party entered the foyer. Who wouldn't? One man with his sleeves half burnt, the other looking completely normal and a young girl drenched in a black coat. One of the staff even walked up to them and asked if any help could be offered.

Sherlock replied with a bored, "No thanks." He swept his eyes over him as they walked past, a smirk tugging at his lips. He must have been doing that 'deducing' thing again, Natalie thought.

They walked off into the elevator, John pressing the button to the second floor (the hotel was only a few storeys high), John and Sherlock standing on either side of her.

Sherlock Holmes had introduced himself as a consulting detective, whatever _that _was. He explained it that when the police were too blind to see what was really going on, they went to him. He also said, a tad braggingly, that he was the only one in the world.

John, on the other hand, told her he was a doctor. But he didn't explain what area he specialised in. Natalie thought he must have been a paramedic from those eyes but that didn't seem right.

The doors opened up and they turned into the corridor and stopped at the first door, a shiny golden plaque on it that read, _203_.

John fished for the key and slipped it in the door. Once unlocked, Sherlock opened it and headed straight into the first room, shutting the door behind him.

"He'll be out in a second." John told her. She wandered into the main room, which featured a medium-sized television, two love-seats with a table and a dining table set off to the side.

Natalie stood a bit awkwardly as John opened a cupboard and lifted out a personalised medical box, "Where should I put my bag?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm? Oh here, I'll take it." He offered.

Natalie handed it to him. Her bag was roughly half the size of a school sports bag and navy blue. John placed it on the table along with the kit and gestured for her to sit down. She shrugged off Sherlock's coat and gently laid it across the seat beside her.

Sherlock came out of the front room carrying a folder just as she sat down. As he started to spread them face-down, John stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked him.

"Isn't it _obvious?_ I'm about to question Natalie."

"No you're not; not yet anyway. In fact, you are in no condition do _anything _for at least a day."

"What?! What are you talking about!" he demanded.

"Sherlock, in case you haven't noticed, you're kind of _burned._"

"What? Oh this?" he lifted his arm and examined it, "This is nothing." He went back to the photos but John interrupted again.

"Sherlock! Your sleeves are singed and some of your skin is starting to blister. Make a deduction."

"John, its fine," He said firmly, "It doesn't matter."

"To hell it matters!" Natalie flinched as John exploded. Glancing towards her, he gave her an apologetic look. He looked back to Sherlock, "Look, if I don't treat this soon, you _will_ get scars and you _will _get an infection. Do you _want _scars on your arms?"

Sherlock averted his eyes from John's,". . . .No." he muttered.

"Do you _want _to get an infection?"

"No."

"Then so help me, take off your shirt or I will rip it off myself."

They locked eyes, trying to stare each other down until Sherlock said through clenched teeth, "_Fine_."

Still glaring at John, he started to unbutton his shirt. Natalie quickly stood up and walked around to the dining table. She fished around for her hairpin. Finding it inside one of the pockets, she pulled it out.

Once in the light, the stones glimmered green and white, the swirling blues of the pin shining a little brighter.

Natalie smiled at the sight of it. It was the last thing she had from her parents. Her smile dimmed slightly at the thought of them. She was conflicted. One part of her missed them however another despised them for what they did to her.

Natalie banished those thoughts from her mind and fitted the pin in her now dry hair.

"Could you get me a bowl of warm water Natalie? And the towel beside it too if you wouldn't mind." John asked politely.

She walked into the small kitchen and had to open some cupboards before she found the right bowl. Turning on the tap, she filled it up with some warm water, put the towel around it and walked to the coffee table, putting it down as she reached it.

"Thanks love." He murmured.

Natalie blushed ever so slightly. Brits were so . . . endearing.

Sherlock's arms were currently being bandaged up and looked to almost blend with his skin. Was it always cloudy in London? Also, he was shirtless and surprisingly toned. Not very much, but enough to see that he was fairly active.

"I feel stupid." He grumbled.

John only replied with a chuckle.

Soon the bandaging was finished so there was finally a use for the bowl.

"Put your head in the bowl."

Sherlock's head slowly turned to John, his expression clearly saying 'WTF'.

"Some of your hair is singed; you need to wash it off." He said simply.

"Wouldn't a shower do that just as well?"

"Your bandages would get wet."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and promptly dunked his head in the bowl.

Natalie was taken aback, "Is this how things usually go down with you two?"

"Some of the time." John replied with a smile.

Sherlock's head rose out the water, clumps of hairs appearing in the bowl. John handed him the towel so that he could dry his hair.


End file.
